


We Have Always Lived in the Castle

by ADyingFlower



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Post-Season/Series 04, Psychological Horror, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 11:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15907482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: Keith woke up with a headache.(There’s something wrong with his friends. He’s starting to be scared of them. But that’s silly, right?)





	We Have Always Lived in the Castle

 

Keith woke up with a headache.

His mouth tasted like sandpaper, and his eyes throbbed weakly to the beat of his pulse. Despite that, there was a warm body snuggled into his side, and another holding him against a firm chest.

Weakly peering through blurry eyes, he could see sandy brown hair nestled under his chin and the faint press of glasses against his shirt. Pidge. A metal arm wrapped around his midsection tight enough to form bruises while uneven breathing blew strands of his hair back and forth. Shiro.

There was another person on the other side of Pidge, resting a large calloused hand against the spot where Keith’s shirt shifted up around his waist. Hunk. Another form curled above them all like a cat, piano fingers entwined in his hair like the owner fell asleep petting him. Lance.

There was more. Someone’s head resting against his thighs, long hair spilling against his exposed bare skin. Allura. Someone’s boot pressed against his own bare feet, the weird material of Altean leather itching his ankle. Coran.

Something inside him practically purred at all his family - _friends_ being cuddled up like this around him even as his claustrophobia ticked at how restrained he was. Another part of him was questioning what was going on.

He remembered - sirens. Yeah, that’s right. They had just returned from Naxzela, they were still figuring out what to do with Lotor and the recovery from losing so many rebel forces. And Keith was barely reminding himself to breath through all of this.

If his memory served correct, then he had begged Matt not to tell. The older boy had reluctantly agreed, only on the promise that the two of them actually talked about it after everyone cooled down a little bit and they figured out the situation with Lotor. 

Keith went to bed after that, in his old room for once. Then - alarms? The lights flashing red, him answering a knock on the door, yellow armor. Hunk?

Then nothing.

Maybe he got injured in whatever happened. Healing pods tend to leave a bit of a fog in someone’s memory for a while, just like any kind of sedative would. And the team cuddles - he hasn’t had one of these for a while. Not since the beginning before they lost Shiro. Not since he screwed up so badly. 

It was…nice.

Whatever it was, he would remember more in a couple hours. There was no way he could be removed from this cuddle pile if he tried without waking every single person up, so he had to assume they contacted the Blade about his extended absence.

One would hope, anyhow.

Pidge muttered under her breath, rubbing her head back and forth into the skin of his neck, just like a cat asking for pets. He fumbled out a small laugh, and she jerked awake at the vibration, her gaze connecting to his near instantly.

He frowned. Something…he didn’t know how to explain was in her gaze.

(The look in Pidge’s eyes- it’s almost a bit _unhinged_. But that must be his imagination.)

But then her face broke out into a wide grin, her teeth flashing as she launched herself at him, her arms encircling his neck in an almost strangling grip. “Keith! Oh god, Keith it’s really you!”

The jolt woke Shiro up, and then his chin was being yanked back as dark eyes scanned his face relentlessly. For a moment - just a moment -

Keith couldn’t recognize him -

And then it was back to his Shiro, his surrogate brother/father figure. Shiro smiled weakly, cupping his face with his flesh and blood hand as his metal one encircled his hips all the tighter.

“You’re awake,” Shiro murmured, practically caressing the words.

Keith blinked, squeezing the hand around his hips soothingly. “Of course I’m awake. Did something happen?”

Shiro stared at him for a long moment, his thumb brushing under his eye gently, as if he was something precious to possess, his gaze unreadable. And then he smiled. “Of course not.”

For some reason, Keith didn’t believe him.

Pidge’s arms tightened around his neck like a vice, as if punishing him for ignoring her. His gaze flickered down to her pouting frown, and he smiled apologetically, even if he had to smother a laugh. She tried to act all tough, but she was still the youngest of them all, barely a teenager.

Instead of getting indignant, as what he guessed would happen, she only muffled her own laugh and pressed her face against his neck, her lips pressing coolly against his overheated skin. Shiro scooted closer to Keith’s limp form, his fingers fanning out over his bare skin and interlocking with his hand.

(His stomach turned.)

“Go back to sleep.” Shiro commanded softly, but there was a thread of iron in the command.

Helplessly, he let himself drift back into sleep, even if the hairs on the back of his neck refused to go down, despite him being the safest he could possibly be.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next time he woke up, Shiro and Pidge were gone, as well as Hunk and Coran. Instead, Lance and Allura had moved in the night (was it night?) to box him in. Him and Lance were squeezed together tightly, and - he noticed with a flushed face - his ass right against Lance’s groin. Allura was nestled against his front, his face pressed against her collarbone.

But this time, both of them were awake, if the way their breaths hitched and hands became frantic when he let out a sleepy groan.

“Keith Keith Keith…” Allura whispered excitedly, rubbing her cheek fiercely against his chest. “You’re back you’re back, I’m so happy you’re back…”

“Calm down there ‘llura.” Lance chuckled, but his own hands were under Keith’s shirt and absently running back and forth along his rib cage, fingertips slowly sliding down as if they were cataloguing each rib. 

He - he didn’t like this touch. But he shouldn’t complain, when he’s been desperately craving any kind of affection from his friends for the longest time.

(Keith shouldn’t, right? Yeah, it’s not their fault he’s a fucked up mess who can’t decide what he wants.)

“‘ey guys.” He managed to mumble out sleepily, pulling one hand that was wrapped around Allura’s side to rub at his eyes. “I’m starving, how long have I been sleeping?”

Allura shook her head, her hair fanning around him like a protective curtain from the world. “Not long, only a couple hours since you woke up with Shiro and Pidge.” Some of her composure seem to return to her, as she stopped nestling against his chest and actually let go of him to sit up. “I’m going to call for Hunk to make you something. Last I’ve heard, he’s making your favorite.”

Then something weird happened. Allura turned to look at Keith, her eyes soft and fond like he’s never seen them in the past, before her eyes skimmed over to Lance, something of an order lacing her tone. “ _Don’t_ let him move.”

He felt Lance nod, and then all of Allura’s stern countenance faded away like it was never there. She drifted to her feet, giving one of Keith’s free hands a squeeze before leaving the room. A small click sounded as soon as the door closed behind her, and it took him a moment to place it.

Did she - _lock_ him in his room?

The last thread of his patience snapped. Wiggling in Lance’s tight hold (that only seemed to grow stronger the more he resisted the restraint), he turned around to give the younger boy his best glare. “Okay, _what_ is going on? You’re all acting weird as hell, and it’s seriously starting to get on my nerves.”

Lance’s face was as serene as ever. Almost impassive - terrifyingly so. “Nothing’s wrong Keith, you’re imagining it.”

That stung, but Keith did his best to keep his glower on and not let the hurt shine through. “No! You’re all cuddling me but won’t explain what’s going on, being weirdly clingy, and now Allura _locked_ me in _my_ room? What is going on?”

His expression never faltered. “I told you, you’re imagining it.” But Lance’s hands told a different story, clenched as they were around his hips.

Something was definitely going on here.

But he didn’t have time to press for more, as he heard the clicking of someone entering in a password, and then his door slid open.

“Hello lads,” Coran’s cheery voice still remained the same, which was surprisingly calming. But he still treaded the light distance into his room to run his fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at the base of his scalp. “Number two made a fantastic roast, with some of those tubers you all like to call ‘potatoes’? How any of you like those dreadful things is beyond me, why back in my day -“

“Thanks Coran.” Lance smiled lightly at the advisor, but -

_It wasn’t genuine, was it, Keith?_

The arms wrapped around his waist finally unleashed their hold for Lance to sit up, only for those same arms to hook around his elbow and heist him up to his feet. Then they slid down his forearm to grip his hand in a such a tight grip that he flinched instinctively at the burst of pain.

Lance loosened his hold after that, but not by much. Coran didn't say anything.

When they reached the kitchen, Hunk was anxiously fiddling with his oven gloves. As soon as Keith was dragged into the room by Lance, all eyes seemed to fix on him at once, a variety of grins ranging from excited to sappy passing through the crowd of gathered Paladins.

“Keith!” Hunk practically flew at him, Lance releasing his hand and stepping back as he was swept up into one of Hunk’s familiar back breaking hug.

This - this he could understand. Keith could feel a smile tugging at his lips as he gladly returned the hug. “Hey big guy, missed me much?”

Hunk drew back with a wide smile. “Oh you have no idea how much man, things around here have just been awful since - ”

“ _Hunk_.” Surprisingly, it was Pidge who hissed out his name, looking practically murderous. Hunk flinched under his hands, drawing back with a sheepish smile.

Keith narrowed his eyes.

“Anyhow,” Hunk coughed into his hand, waving his hand at the spread on the table. “I made your favorite! That meat from the planet with those duck people that I can’t pronounce for the life of me, and even some of those tubers you like that taste like potatoes that were dipped in soy sauce, which taste kinda funky, no offense man.”

Keith smirked, glad that at least one person (maybe Coran too) was acting somewhat normally. “None taken. Thanks for the meal, though.”

Hunk beamed. “No problem!”

The rest of the Paladins either sat down or started scooping food on their plates. Keith moved to follow and sit in his usual place - in between Lance and Shiro - but blinked when he found the spot filled by Lance.

(It ached, a little bit, the space where he used to sit so easily taken just like that.)

But - moving on, Keith grabbed one of the plates and went to sit on the other side of Hunk, when Shiro’s hand lashed out and yanked on his wrist, sending him stumbling back with a half aborted cry of pain.

“Where are you going?” Those dark eyes stared at him intently, the entire room quieting at the growl.

Years of similar questions that only had him slapped for the answer or worse made his breath catch in his throat, but he forcibly calmed himself down at the reminder that this was only Shiro. Shiro, who helped raise him into the person he is today, who, with his infallible kindness and patience, broke him out of his shell he spent years building up.

“T-the seat down there.” He weakly pointed at the intended seat, his eyes adverting to stare at his socked feet. Keith felt those dark eyes on him for a moment longer, and then the scrape of a chair being pushed backwards.

He flinched, but the hit never came. Shiro never stood up, only asserted a quick, “Sit here, then.”

Keith looked up, and then had to swallow.

Shiro was pointing at the space between his legs.

His eyes drifted along the rows of other Paladins, but most of them were focused on their food, Pidge being the only one watching him with blank eyes.

None of them looked like they thought this was anything out of the ordinary.

His hands were clammy, he realized distantly. His heart pounding a mile a minute as he shifted from foot to foot, Shiro’s grip and gaze unwavering.

(Keith felt like he was being sized up, a prey being considered whether they were too small to go to the effort to chase down.)

“Come on,” Shiro chuckled warmly, tugging on his wrist none too gently. “Sit down already, or the food will go cold.”

As if he was watching his own body from somewhere near the ceiling, his legs moved without his notice, wading through vicious water to stand in front of Shiro. Warm hands left his wrist and drifted to his hips, encircling them easily as they pulled him back into the chair.

In between Shiro’s legs.

He sat stiffly, his hands clenching the fabric of his trousers. Shiro pressed a soothing hand against his shoulder, but all it did was make him flinch.

It was too much, too close and too much warmth. Bile rose in his throat, but he said nothing as Hunk served him silently.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me if this hurts at all, immediately.” Coran instructed gently, fastening the material around Keith’s ankle.

He nodded, eyes focused on the ceiling. Like a festering wound, he could feel Lance’s presence to the side, resting against the wall with his arms crossed.

It’s been a couple of days since he woke up in the cuddle pile after Naxzela, and things have been getting progressively worse. The other Paladins behaviors was erratic at the best of times, disrupting any sense of knowledge he had about them from all their time in space together.

It became abundantly clear what was expected out of him since waking up: not being able to sleep alone without at least one self appointed bodyguard, not being able to go anywhere in the castle without someone following him three steps behind or clinging to his arm, and not being able to sit in his own seat at meal times.

So far he’s shared a seat with Allura, Pidge, and Hunk. Allura kept cooing at him the entire meal, running her fingers through his hair and trying to hand feed him, making him feel like some medieval king’s beloved wife, being pampered and dotted on, but still just a pretty pet without a free will or a voice. Pidge, being tiny as she was, sat in his lap instead, but couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself as they drifted all around his shoulders and down his shirt, tugging on his hair sharply if he didn’t pay her enough attention. Hunk was by far the easiest, it honestly felt like they just were just snuggling and eating rather than some weird ritual where he was being passed around from lap to lap.

Now him and Coran were set up in the infirmary, the Altean wrapping a tracking band around his ankle. Everyone was getting one apparently, something about how Shiro and Allura keep losing the younger Paladins (plus Coran) everytime they visit the space mall.

That didn’t explain why he was getting one when he really should be getting back to the Blade, but everytime he asked that they deflected his questions like a pro or stared him down with blank eyes until he grew uncomfortable enough to drop the question.

It was seriously getting on his nerves, and if it weren’t for the intent way they practically stared him down that reminded him of days long past whenever he asked he should probably be halfway on his way back to the Blade. He wasn’t _needed_ here, the Blade needed him. Especially since Naxzela, they needed all the hands on deck as they could after so many of their own died.

Something must have shown on his face, because he heard quiet footsteps approach the head of the cot, and then fingers trailing through his hair and gently urging him to look at their owner.

“You okay?” Lance whispered, his voice soft. They were always so good with him, yet he’s associating them wrongly continually with his old foster homes. What an asshole he is, but he can’t seem to stop.

“Yeah,” Keith gave Lance a half smile, faltering slightly when Lance’s free hand came down to run over the seam of his mouth. “I’m fine.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Lance’s eyes went flat even as his gentle smile remained. But he didn’t say anything as Coran finished tightening the red device around his ankle, just kept swiping his thumb across Keith’s lips, back and forth, back and forth.

“All done, number four!” Coran piped up, stepping back to give his ankle strap a good once over. “Good old Stalford metal, practically nothing can cut it and needs exceedingly high temperatures to even begin to melt. Very rare though, and hard to mold for anything larger than a fist.”

“Thanks Coran,” Keith sat up to take a closer look at the thin metal anklet painted red, knocking aside Lance’s hands in the process. There was a small box under band, barely noticeable it it weren’t for the way it pressed against the inner skin of his leg. He caught a glimpse of a couple wires, but not much else before a hand with a blue bracelet was being shoved in his face.

“I’ve got one too,” Lance declared with a smug smile, shaking his hand back and forth. Keith took the offered hand slowly, rotating it back and forth to get a good look at it.

He could have sworn -

“Do you like it?” Lance asked, all smile with shark like teeth and bitten nails.

Keith nodded slowly, his own (fake fake fake) smile on his face. “Very blue, suits you.”

\- that it didn’t have the same box his did.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He snuck out of his room one night, a week into this strange world he was thrust into. It was getting too stifling, and Pidge was a deep sleeper after a long enough time.

Out of more curiosity sake than anything else, he headed down to the Lions. While him and Red cut ties ages ago, and Black and him never had much of a bond to begin with, he hoped that if he spoke to either of them some of this...weird touching would be cleared up.

It was honestly becoming to much for him to take. He had to sit on Shiro’s lap once again today, and the entire time Shiro kept rubbing his hand on his thigh in a soothing gesture that could only make him think of the foster fathers who called him “pretty little Asian boy” and whose hands roamed along his thighs and back.

And it’s not fair, because Shiro’s not like that, he’s _not_ , but he can’t stop thinking about it and he feels sick and he can’t sleep or eat.

Red always calmed his head when the world was too much for him to handle.

Pressing his hand against the scanner leading into Red’s hangar, he frowned as the pad flashed red.

Denying him access.

Curious more than anything, he moved along to the scanner to Black’s hangar, his eyebrows furrowing as the screen once again flashed red.

Did the other Paladins...deny him access to the hangars?

Anger coursed first through his veins, dulling any chance for the hurt to sting first. Who the hell did they think they were?!

Stomping, he stormed through the underbelly of the castle towards the common hangars, where he parked his stolen Galra cruiser. He was going to leave by himself if that was what it took, enough of this weird babying and affection.

He had a job, and he was going to do it.

A sigh of relief left him when the common hangar’s scanner finally recognized his handprint, the doors sliding opening near silently.

Peering around, Keith took careful steps into the hangar as he counted rows silently, eyes lighting up when he got to the third one from the left.

He froze.

There was nothing there.

Did he park it somewhere else? No no no, he parked it right here, he’s sure of it. Did the others move it? Impossible, you needed Galra DNA to move them, and none of the Blades would have risked bringing a Galra cruiser back with them.

So how -?

He barely recognized the gentle touch grasping at his upper arm, tugging him back away from the hangar. “Come along number four, nothing for you to see here.”

“Wha -”

Coran looked at him with pleading eyes, and it was the most genuine expression he’s seen in the past week that it stopped his protests right in his tracks. “ _Please_.”

Something was going on here. And he was going to find out what’s happening to his friends, one way or the other.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His next clue came in two days later as he was sitting with Pidge in her lab. He was escorted by Hunk, who looked relieved not to have to be following him around anymore as he scampered off to do his own things. Being with Pidge was the closest he could get to alone time, as she was usually too busy and involved in her work to give him too much attention besides requesting him to rest his head in her lap occasionally or for her to cuddle up next to him when she was taking a short break/nap.

His eyes drifted aimlessly over the papers scattered around the table as Pidge typed frantically over her pad. Some things were just better planned when written out, he noted dryly as yet another paper covered his search for the one specific paper he put down earlier among the pile. His mistake, obviously.

Keith froze. There, on the sheet he just pushed aside was his name, scribbled in the margin clear as day.

_Alternative realities? Need comet_

_Have to attune to Keith’s DNA. Cryopod._

_Narrow it down. Just Naxzela?_

Keith shifted his gaze up, but Pidge was still distracted with her pad, so he went back to skimming over the whole paper. The equations didn’t make sense to him at all, but the doodles in the corners showed something like the teleduv, but another drawing of what he thought was the trans-reality comet.

Chancing another glance up, his heart jumped to his throat as he met impassive brown eyes staring him down.

(They were empty. That was the word. Empty of all real and genuine emotion.)

“What are you doing?” Pidge asked calmly. “What are you doing?”

She was standing up now. “What are you doing?”

Keith stumbled back, but she just kept approaching, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t run from me Keith. Don’t run.” He kept staggering backwards desperately. “ _DON’T RUN FROM ME!_ ”

He froze. He wasn’t here anymore, he was under the bed and behind the closet door and tripping up the stairs and anywhere they couldn’t find him he had to run he had to hide -

Small arms came around his midsection, snuggling against his chest. Those same empty eyes were looking up at him, but now they creased up in an absent smile. “Caught you~”

Pidge released him then, not giving him a second glance as his knees folded under him, returning to her work like nothing had happened at all.

His heart didn’t stop pounding until well afterwards.

 

 

* * *

 

 

These weren’t his teammates. These weren’t his friends. These weren’t his surrogate _family_.

He had to find a way to get out of here and get back to them, not these people who looked just like them.

What he needed was tangible proof. And he knew where to find it.

Hunk’s diary.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith had to wait until it was Hunk’s turn to share a bed with him, and then he snuck out of his room fearfully.

He had been on his best behavior all week, but it was quickly escalating into more than he could take. Shiro only grew more violent with him as time passed, never outright hitting him but pulling and arranging him into whichever way he wanted when he was forced to sit in his lap or cuddle at night. He refused only once to sit on his lap during movie time, and Shiro had squeezed his wrist so hard he felt something pop, and only let him go when he apologized repeatedly with wet eyes and hiccuping gasps.

(He had to remind himself that these weren’t his teammates, these were poor imitations wearing their skin, because his actual friends wouldn’t do this to him, right?)

He wasn’t the only one getting more violent. Allura threw a full blown tantrum when he refused to sit with her and let her play with his hair, except that her tantrums involved her throwing furniture at him, one of the loveseats from the personal sitting room they were talking in actually nicking his arm. That, funny enough, seemed to calm her down and she went right back to fussing over him and having Coran bandage the cut up.

(She still played with his hair afterwards. He was too scared to say no again.)

Lance, lucky enough, never forced him to do anything. Just followed behind him as a silent shadow, touches that lingered just a little too long and gazes a little too sweeping. No many how many long sleeve shirts and jackets he tugged on, he practically felt naked when Lance walked behind him, the iron weight of his stare digging into his back.

Pidge was her own kind of scary, but after the last incident, nothing since then had happened, so he grew lax in her presence.

(Keith read somewhere that the human mind could only take being on guard for so long before it started to relax unconsciously. He couldn’t afford for that to happen.) 

The only ones who he could even feel somewhat safe with were both Hunk and Coran. Both of them seemed to know that things weren’t right, but neither of them spoke up about it, just gave him pitiful glances and intervening when they could when Shiro or Allura got too demanding. On one terrifying occasion where Lance was insistent he sit in his lap (the same day he was wearing his only pair of shorts for the first time since Naxzela), Hunk jokingly offered his own, an escape from something he had no right of accusing Lance of but his instincts were screaming against him otherwise.

Crawling through the vents (he figured Hunk’s bedroom would lock him out, as most of the rooms in the castle did), he scooted a bit over to one of the grates, grinning viscously when he spotted Hunk’s familiar bandana and a couple of his well loved novels.

He slipped his knife from his backside, using the tip of his blade to insert where a screwdriver would go instead, grabbing each screw before it could drop and slipping it into his jacket pocket. Keith needed to make sure his entrance was in and out without anyone noticing a thing.

Dropping to the ground silently, Keith grinned as his Blade training came in handy. Now, if he was Hunk, where would he hide his diary…?

Crouching on his heels, he ran a hand against the bottom of the mattress, his own silly little grin emerging as he felt the smooth cover of Hunk’s diary hidden in the most obvious spot of all.

Flicking through the pages, he thumbed towards the date Naxzela happened, knowing as much as the Galra ancestry in his blood told him that this all started then.

_April 16th,_

_I’m nervous about the mission tomorrow, I mean, a quarter of the known universe freed, just like that? Well, not like that obviously, this date is only an approximate guess and it’s already probably been more than a year. I try keeping track, but I keep losing dates so I ask Pidge and her laptop’s automatic calendar when I really need to know._

_Hopefully we’ll win this with nobody dying. No, I know nobody is going to die! I have to keep believing that, or it’s all over._

_Love, Hunk_

Keith smiled at Hunk’s optimism, his friendliness and cheerful demeanor a perfect fit for the Yellow lion. Lost in thought, he turned the page and went on to the next page, the day after Naxzela, without much thought.

_April 17th,_

_Keith is dead_

….what?

The next five entries were empty, though entry 19th looked like Hunk started, but then scribbled right over in pen. He could only make out ‘cold’ and ‘it hurts’ before they went back to blank pages.

_April 23rd,_

_everything is so quiet_

_pidge isnt sleeping much she just talks to herself in code. allura not much better, she just keeps pretending keith isnt_ [word scribbled out]

_lance and shiro lost it lance wont_ [word scribbled out] _and he keeps_ [words scribbled out, a barely legible J managing to be visible] _and shiro hasnt left keiths room once_

_its destroying us. i keeping seeing his face the last time i saw him. he killed himself to save us i cant_ [penmanship is no longer legible]

His hands were trembling, he noted distantly.

_April 26th,_

_pidge came up with a plan lance thinks it will work but hes desperate. the science is sound but allura said this might warp our minds but its a risk im willing to take we need keith back we cant form voltron none of us are sleeping we need him back we need keith we need him_ [page dissolved into the sentence on repeat]

It was almost touching, in some horrifying way, how much these imitations cared for him.

_April 27th,_

_We got him. We got Keith! He’s sleeping right now, but it feels so good just to be able to watch him breath. Coran said the drugs will probably keep him under for a day or two, but that’s okay. Everyone just wants to be around Keith._

_It feels like something changed after getting him from the other castle. Was this the mind warp Allura was talking about? I don’t feel bad. I just want to protect him and keep him safe. I don’t feel bad like she thought we would. I’m not getting mood swings like hypothesized, but I do get angry easily at the thought of Naxzela._

_Keith shouldn’t have died. Now he’s never going to have that chance again to even risk his life. We’re keeping him safe right here in the castle and away from those awful Blades. He’ll be safe. He won’t have to die again. I can’t handle him -_

Keith had to stop reading. His stomach turned around in his stomach relentlessly, threatening to upchuck his dinner right there and then.

God, what did he just read?

Even as he carefully put the diary back and scrambled him way up into the vents, his mind ran in circles. He died at Naxzela supposedly, but he had very real memories of surviving the attack (and more importantly, Matt’s worried scolding afterwards).

As he traveled through the vents, he slowly put the pieces together. Him dying. Hunk’s diary entry of what happened afterwards. Pidge’s notes. The lack of the Galra cruiser in the hanger. The GPS anklet. Everyone’s violent and erratic behavior.

His breath caught in his chest as he began to realize what happened.

Keith’s in another reality.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He had to get back to his teammates. His true teammates, not these one driven half mad with grief and quintessence poisoning. For that, he needed outside help. While he suspected Coran didn’t travel through the rift, he was just as much affected by their Keith’s death than anybody else. Frankly, Keith couldn’t trust him.

What he needed was Matt.

The two of them had grown close during his stint as a Blade, and he had no doubt the relationship carried even through different realities. And Matt had the luck of not being connected to him through the Voltron bond (not having to feel him _die_ like the others did) and being able to keep a cool head under stress, something Keith always admired in him.

The next coalition mission was this afternoon, something he only learned after spending hours at a time with Allura, who had the penchance when she was with him to get lost in thought and talk to people who weren’t there, telling whole stories and mission briefings to.

He was beginning to catch on that when they sent him to Pidge’s lab was also when the coalition missions started. They wanted to keep him away from getting help, and from anyone who might reveal that their Keith was actually dead.

Keith was just a kid sent out to space who was good with a blade in his hand. He didn’t have the mind for strategy, or the ability to come up with inventions to get himself out of sticky situations.

He just had himself, and his instincts.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Hey, it works.

Pidge hummed distractedly, not even looking up as he trotted out of the room and down the hall towards the large science wing bathroom. And kept going, easily shifting from a brisk walk to a sprint. While Pidge could get involved in her work easily, she was going to notice he was missing sooner or later and ring whatever security system they had on him.

He had to make due with what he had.

Sneaking through the halls, he pressed his back against the wall when he heard Shiro’s familiar voice. Honestly, he would rather catch Matt alone and hitch a ride out of here with him, but he could also stroll right into the meeting, right? If he’s supposed to be dead, that should be enough to cause a stir and get Matt between him and the Paladins.

Nodding to himself, Keith hovered his hand over the scanner. Here goes -

“Keith?”

Oh god. Without even thinking, he went to slam his hand against the scanner and -

_it_

_burns_

His knees collapsed under him from the violent jerks shaking his limbs furiously. Keith felt blood burst into his mouth as his teeth tore into his tongue, the chattering never ceasing as wave after wave of pain coursed through him. His hand slipped away from the scanner, just inches away from freedom, and right before his eyes rolled up into the back of his head, he saw -

Hunk standing there, a smug little smile on his face like he won a game of tag, pressing his thumb against the center of the small little yellow band around his wrist.

Oh, now he remembers…

 

 

* * *

 

 

_The lights bled red as the sirens started, jerking Keith right out of bed and onto his feet. He grabbed his knife from where he had unclipped it from his side, rushing to the door as he shook the last of the nightmare out of his brain._

_A knock on his door startled him, and the door slid open to reveal yellow armor. Hunk._

_Keith let out a sigh of relief, his smile matching Hunk’s own relieved one. “What’s going on?”_

_Hunk jerked his head towards the corridor, a frantic look in his eyes. “No time to explain, come on.”_

_He followed without complaint, his own hand ready over the handle of the knife. Hunk kept glancing back to give him weird looks, but maybe it was just that Hunk wasn’t used to seeing him in his Blade uniform._

_They were halfway down the hallway towards the outer wing of the Castle when warning bells started ringing in his head. “Hey Hunk, where are we going?”_

_Hunk didn’t look back. “I said I’d explain later.”_

_Keith frowned. This strangely stiff demeanor was so unlike the yellow Paladin he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Okay, but honestly I’m -”_

_“Keith!” That was Hunk’s voice, but Hunk was in front of him, and the Yellow Paladin was turning with wide eyes towards something behind Keith._

_He turned around. There was another Hunk, this one with bruised and blood splattered armor. This Hunk lifted his cannon, aiming at Keith with zero hesitation._

_Or, the Hunk behind him he amended when Hunk yelled out “Get away from him Keith, that’s not me -!”_

_The rest was lost in the series of expletives as Other Hunk launched some device that looked like a grenade right at his Hunk. Keith cried out and went to go help him, but a sharp pinch in his exposed neck stopped him right in his tracks._

_“Easy now.” Other Hunk hushed as he tried to stumble away from him, gently shoving his flailing hands aside and scooping him up right against his chest. “I’m taking you home, everything will be just fine.”_

_No, Keith struggled to get away, to thrash away from the person who looked like Hunk but wasn’t. But he couldn’t, whatever Other Hunk stabbed him with was working quickly. Terrifyingly quickly._

_He started drifting off, slowly. Keith felt a soft kiss brush against his forehead, and then the quiet swish of his mask closing over his face._

_The last thing he heard before unconsciousness took him was a roar as the Yellow Lion swallowed him whole._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith woke up with a headache.

His muscles ached fiercely, a faint tremble starting at the crown of his head and traveling down to the soles of his feet. Dried blood covered his teeth, even as his tongue still stung like he chomped directly on a wasp.

This time, there was no warm bodies. Just the quiet of his room and the faint rattle of chains.

Chains?

Keith forced his eyes open, licking his dry lips with his still aching tongue. When he went to rub at his eyes, his wrist stopped short halfway there. His legs were much of the same problem, only able to move them a couple inches each way before something stopped him.

His heart stopped when he realized why.

His wrists and ankles were shackled. Chains leading off the bed on each side tied to some point on the ground kept him comfortable on the bed, but he couldn’t move. At all.

Panic tightened his throat. He couldn’t breath, he was trapped here by these insane versions of his teammates who barely saw him as a living being.

Warm fingers rested against his cheek, turning him to face his visitor. Dark eyes stared back, before Shiro smiled like nothing was wrong.

“It’s to stop you from trying to hurt yourself,” Shiro said in lieu of any explanation. Because honestly, that explained _jackshit_. “Don’t worry, we already made a chart on feeding times and bathroom breaks, so we won’t be leaving you alone to suffer. But I think some quiet time will be good for you to get your head on straight, hm?”

No no no, Shiro knew he hated being left with nothing but his thoughts, he knew he knew so why? Why leave him in a dark room where he could barely move for him to suffocate on his claustrophobia?

(To break him, some part of Keith’s brain answered.)

“No no no please Shiro don’t do this please -” Those fingers left him as Shiro stepped back away from him. “Please Shiro please Shiro Shiro SHIRO PLEASE _SHIRO_!”

“ _SHIRO_!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“If that’s all, I’ll be on my way, I suppose.” Matt smiled at Shiro, clasping a hand over his shoulder. “I’m glad you seem to be feeling better, I know things are tough right now but they _will_ get better. Don’t be afraid to call, okay?”

Shiro had to do his best to act subdued, nodding his head slowly with a troubled frown as if he was still working his way through the grief. It worked, as Matt removed his hand with little comment.

It was when Matt was almost to the door when a question seemed to occur to him. “Hey, what was that loud thump from earlier? Right outside the door?”

Shiro smiled mysteriously, shrugging his shoulders. “Who knows. Probably just Coran tripping, or the old castle protesting loudly at your presence.”

Matt let out a loud laugh as expected, waving one more time jovially before finally leaving.

He waited a few more moments, just to make sure Matt was truly gone, before he let out a sigh of relief. Truly, his best friend had no reason to worry about him, he had everything he needed right in this castleship.

So what if he had to do morally questionable things to get his hands on some of it? They needed Keith, they were falling apart in their grief.

The other reality they plucked him from didn’t need him, he reasoned with a whistle to himself. His other self seemed so shocked when he brought up Naxzela - he had no idea his little brother was sending himself off to die!

But no longer. They had Keith, and until Keith learned it was safer here where they could protect him, they just had to keep him from hurting himself.

Though perhaps adding the shock collar element to the tracker they attached to him was a bit overkill, but well, it did its job of keeping Keith from throwing himself recklessly in danger. He was sure Coran would be more than willing to remove it once they were sure that Keith wasn’t going to pull another stunt like that, his chest ached horribly when he saw how much blood spilled out of his little brother’s mouth from biting his tongue as they were attaching the last manacles they prepared in advance in case of something like this to his wrists and ankles.

All in due time, though. Patience yields focus, Shiro reminded himself with a smile.

Keith would come around soon after a couple days in that dark room, he was sure.

 

 

 


End file.
